Albert looked at him for a moment. Then he turned, and ran towards the exit.

‘Hold on!’ called Colby. ‘I’ll come with you!’

But he had already left the tent.

It wasn’t till he had gone down the steps leading to the valley floor and stood there, looking first left, then right, that Colby managed to catch up with him. ‘Whoa! Whoa! Easy, now!’ he said. ‘Do you even know where the commander’s tent is?’

‘Where is it?’

‘Follow me,’ said Colby, and turned and ran, down towards the far end of the valley, the end where Albert had first entered from, before turning off towards the right from just short of the raised platform from where he had first surveyed the valley. He led the way, through a group of large, multicoloured tents and some smelting pits, through another row of tents, before coming to a stop before a huge, silken affair, purple in colour and in much better shape than most tents Albert had seen in the valley. ‘Here it is,’ said Colby.

As they stepped forward, two men moved out to bar the entrance. Colby nodded at them sternly and they moved back into the shadows at the corners of the entrance. They walked into the tent, which was even more impressive from the inside. Long sashes of silk hung from the corners. A long marble table sat in the centre, bowls of brightly coloured beads decking its polished surface. But what really took the breath away was the sculptures, not so for much the craftsmanship which Albert privately considered questionable at best, but for the sheer number of them. They were everywhere, in every shape, size and form, from small busts to a large rearing horse about ten feet in height. At the far end of the tent, almost hidden by a large marble structure of indeterminate origin was a partition, again made of silk, in front of which, stood two more men, also apparently made of marble, considering how straight they stood.

As they walked towards the partition, the silken folds separated and Father walked out, a grim expression on his face, his eyes faraway and sad. Spotting the two of them standing there, he stopped mid-stride, the unhappiness on his features replaced by surprise. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘I need to speak with you, Father,’ said Albert urgently. ‘It’s about Marcus.’

At that, the sorrowful look on his face reappeared. ‘What about Marcus, Albert?’ he said, as June and Ucho came through the silk partition, still talking about something. Seeing the three of them standing there, they stopped too, just behind Father.

‘Yes, what about him—’ began Ucho, then quietened down as Father turned to give him a look.

He turned back to Albert, who began again. ‘Father, Marcus—’

Father shook his head. ‘It is too late, Albert. For this, and for Marcus.’